


Bluescreen

by CobaltTheFox



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Definitely not abandoned, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Subject to Proofreading, Updates Sporadically, krabton, plabs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltTheFox/pseuds/CobaltTheFox
Summary: Organic creatures aren't the only ones that can catch viruses. [Ongoing as of 04/01/2019; Updates sporadically.]





	Bluescreen

**Introduction/Author’s Note:**

Not too long ago I rewatched SpongeBob Squarepants for the third or fourth time and I came to realize that I never really bothered to try the fandom. So, after much “testing of the waters” per se, I decided it’s about time that I introduce myself.

Here we have a Plankton x Krabs fic, this one involving the two widowers bonding over the loss of loved ones. I chose to write for this shipping because there are so few worthy fics for these two gentlemen (or indeed, this fandom as a whole), and even fewer that actually explore the quality of Plankton and Karen’s relationship in the so-called “Before Time”. This fic will be pretty tame, rated T, with very light cursing (most of it censored similarly to the way it is in the show) and minimal adult humor (if there is any at all).

This fic is largely experimental but I hope you like it, just the same. Thanks in advance for humoring me and, hey, I hope you like reading this! I had a blast writing it for you!

~Cobalt

 **EDIT 04/01/2019:** I promise this isn’t an April Fool’s joke, but… I went back and revised this chapter because I was wayyy too long-winded before and I decided I could clean this up… a lot. So here you go, revised content. Expect chapter 2 as soon as I can possibly get around to it. I promise I haven’t forgotten about my fanfictions.

 **Warnings for this chapter:** Character death.

**This Chapter was first published June 18th, 2018 and last updated April 1st, 2019.**

The Chum Bucket stood stark, unforgiving and monolithic against the rapidly-darkening evening sky. The gentle light of the setting undersea sun cast the restaurant’s iron shell in a fiery cascade of molten gold that lent the usually off-putting establishment a disarming sense of tranquility. The sea was hushed with anticipation of the descending evening, and even the scallops were settling in early for the night as the sun dipped below the horizon and eventually slipped out of sight, taking with it the decadent golden threads of its cheerful, early fall daylight and what little heat it had afforded.

Thus, when Sheldon Plankton rose from his office chair to look out at the mockingly-desolate and over-large front lot of his restaurant, there was (quite literally) nothing to see. The unmistakable golden glow of cheap, energy-inefficient light beamed hazily from the windows of the Krusty Krab—his only competition—from across the street, and if he squinted he could make out vague shapes that were Krabs’s employees bustling about inside, obviously going about cleaning the place up and generally getting ready to close.

As he had for several nights the past week, Plankton habitually rested the rim of his telescope’s aperture against the windowsill and aimed the lens at the Krusty Krab, intent on getting a few hours of nighttime reconnaissance accomplished before he would once again attempt to get a decent night’s rest.

As he focused the lens, slowly and with perhaps a touch more fidgeting with the dials than was his norm, Plankton’s thoughts were elsewhere. More than once as he was adjusting the focus did he have to stop for a moment so he could blink blurriness out of his vision, or to rub sleep out of his eye. He had not slept regularly in over three days, so great was the stress of that week, and he was running on his fifth cup of straight black coffee since waking up from a brief three hour nap around this time yesterday evening.

And so, to say that he was a mite high strung and irritable right now would be a tremendous understatement.

Even standing there motionless at the window seemed to cost him some great reserve of energy that he didn’t know he still had. As he stood there, he registered with no great surprise that he could feel his heart trip-hammering in his chest as the day’s caffeine surged through his veins. Of course, the caffeine did little to help his exhaustion. If anything, all it seemed to do was make him testy-- almost outright _aggressive_.

He had become gradually more rash with his decisions as the week progressed. Whether this was a result of his failing patience, or a growing sense of desperation to avoid the _real_ issue at hand-- he couldn’t tell you. His attempts at the Krabby Patty Secret Formula were becoming increasingly erratic and dangerous at the same time that his inventions were becoming gradually more gruesome and difficult to control. Why, just the other day he’d attached a motor and a set of wheels to a table saw and simply rode it into the Krusty Krab like a seahorse. Thank goodness no one had been in the way at the time, otherwise he’d most certainly be in jail.

At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before a slip in his failing judgment could cost him an arm, a leg, or _worse_.

And so, the fact that he hadn’t unplugged Karen this week was a testament to his patience.

 _Nag nag nag..._ _  
_ _Bitch bitch_ bitch _..._

 _Is that all she knows how to do?_ Plankton thought bitterly to himself. And then right after, not registering the hypocrisy of such a statement, he thought: _Hasn’t she ever heard the phrase forgive and let live?_

_What do I gotta do to let her know I’ve learned my lesson?_

It was just his luck that he had scheduled updates to her nagging software for the same week that Eugene had apparently seen fit to bring a new security system into the Krusty Krab. Between the two setbacks, Plankton was surprised to find that his antenna were still attached at the roots, especially after all the many times he had tugged on them in frustration (or had been picked up and thrown by them) that week.

 _No sir_ , this week had not been kind to him at all. However, these two issues were but minor setbacks in comparison to his biggest concern. The thing that had kept him up at night for weeks now.

As far as the law was concerned, he and Eugene Krabs were married now. _Had been married_ for a little over two or three weeks, come to think of it, and Plankton had no idea what to do to get out of it.

The entire thing; scheme, marriage, and all; had been a _huge_ mistake on his part. Although he’d pulled similar stunts as this one in the past; when he’d temporarily deactivated Karen so he could “entertain” Mrs. Betsy Krabs, who just so happened to know the Krabby Patty Secret Formula; and also when he’d purchased a newer model of computer W.I.F.E. to replace Karen; those other adulterous schemes had _never_ been as personal and riddled with hidden implications as this newest one had been.

If you ask Plankton, cutting out the middleman and going straight for the throat when he’d seduced and married Eugene had merely been a more practical sham to get the formula-- only with a few less steps sprinkled in there. Nothing more and nothing less.

It had all started a few weeks ago when Krabs happened to mention in an offhanded sort of fashion that he would gladly marry money if such a thing were possible, and this had given Plankton the bright idea to disguise himself as an anthropomorphic wad of cash, play the damsel in distress, and marry his worst enemy—all for the sake of procuring the Formula, of course.

No other reason. Nope. _Of course_ he didn’t want the marriage beyond a practical standpoint.

As Eugene’s spouse, he knew he would be entitled to certain benefits. Most importantly, it gave him rights to half of Krabs’s property, which included the Formula and the rights to half of his fast-food empire. But after the way he had royally messed things up, it was unlikely Plankton would be seeing the Formula, or anything else from Eugene, anytime soon.

Even if he _did_ bring lawyers into this mess to try and claim what was _his_ in the eyes of the law, Eugene could always turn it around and claim that Plankton had been in disguise at the time of their ceremony, and therefore the marriage had been fraudulent—which was also true. When Krabs had accidentally revealed Plankton’s identity in their hotel suite… well… things had only gone downhill from there.

And now, here Plankton was. Miserable, sleep-deprived, and half-crazed with conflicting thoughts, peering blearily into a telescope at an absurd hour of the night so he could spy on his rival-turned-husband. _Wishing_ he could get out of this awful situation and get things back to the way they used to be before he went _crazy_ with all the conflicting thoughts which rattled and clacked around in his head like a shaken jar of marbles.

Looking at this situation from the outside, he thought he must look pathetic. Standing there at the window when he was so exhausted he could barely support his own weight, wearing the same bathrobe he had put on three yesterdays ago but had never taken off and a pair of ragged pink bunny house slippers, he certainly fit the whole “Mad Scientist” look, and _hell_ —maybe it wasn’t just a “look” anymore.

If there was one thing that troubled him the most about this situation however, it was the fact that he hadn’t received annulment papers. Had never spoken to a lawyer. Had never received a court summons to split assets or dissolve the marriage or none of that crap. In fact, Plankton still had the ring hidden in his bedside table!

Lately, he had taken to staring at it, seldom getting any rest, just thinking about what this all _meant_ . Even on those rare occasions when he _did_ manage some sleep, the very idea of their marriage plagued his dreams at night. More than once that week did he wake from troubling dreams with head spinning and heart pounding in his chest, not knowing where he was or what he was expecting when instead of the pink, gossamer hell from his nightmares he found himself in his very own office drenched in a cold sweat.

It would be so easy for Krabs to walk into a divorce attorney’s office or make the right phone call, and end this little thing. So why wouldn’t he just do it? Was it an issue of finances, or—? _Neptune forbid..._

Plankton sighed, defeated, and rested his head against the eyepiece of his telescope once more. All he knew for certain at this point was that he hated feeling this helpless, like he could be doing _something_ but had instead decided to sit around and wait for the solution to come to him. It was so _unlike him_ to be without a plan, to be without a way. But then again, it wasn’t often that he’d find himself running on so little sleep, either.

So even now, as Plankton deliberately refocused his attention back to the Krusty Krab, his last thought was of that night. When his disguise had finally been destroyed, and his identity lay bare, Krabs had spared him their usual routine of just deserts, and had instead broken into tears. This in itself had been a shock, but when Krabs had asked if he had felt nothing?

_Well…_

He shook his head. _Focus_.

Stubbornly, he gritted his teeth against the confusing tide of emotions that came with such memories, and finally peered into the telescope to investigate the situation across the street, as he had been meaning to before breaking into monologue.

Within the Krusty Krab, Plankton could see the taller of Krabs’s employees standing up in his boat and leaning his head into the order window which connected the kitchen to the dining area, presumably nagging his coworker for this that and the other thing. Plankton discounted these needless theatrics before he caught a glimpse of the wall clock which hung beside Squidward’s boat, and had to do a double take.

Apparently, it was already one and a half hours past the Krusty Krab’s usual closing time, and he hadn’t even noticed. If the sun set at roughly 6:30 that evening, then that means he had been staring at the Krusty Krab without seeing for a little over three hours.

And so, with this in mind, he paid the scene a closer look. What the scallop were Krabs’ employees still doing at work at such a late hour? He withdrew a steno notepad from the pocket of his bathrobe, and jotted down a note.

 _9:46 PM, October 2_ _nd_ _:_ KK Employees staying late.

This done, he nudged the telescope just so to the left and— _Ah! There!_ In his vision, there loomed Krabs’s office door. Without thinking, Plankton leaned his face closer still to the telescope eyepiece.

Through the porthole in Krabs’s office door, he could just make out the outline of his rival, who sat at his desk with shoulders slumped and eyestalks bent in his characteristic display of dejection. At such a great distance, Plankton couldn’t make out the details of his expression, but by his posture alone he found himself thinking that the poor guy looked positively _forlorn._ Plankton chuckled aloud with glee at the sight, when suddenly the supreme irony of the action stopped him in his tracks.

Wait a minute, wasn’t _he_ miserable for the same reason? ... _Yeah, that’s right._

He straightened up, and backed away from the telescope, mounted his miniature staircase and returned to ground level (which, in actuality, was only about two or three feet below where he had been standing). He crossed his arms again behind his back as he began to pace.

 _Yes_ , _looks like Krabs and I are in the same boat... and it’s sinking._ They were both facing a failing marriage, he realized, and the thought did nothing to comfort him.

Just great. As if one failing marriage wasn’t enough, now he had _two_ to worry about...

~

Within the Krusty Krab, things were calm as was possible with SpongeBob around—which is to say, things were quite a bit louder than Squidward would have preferred. More than once as he perused his newest copy of _Interpretive Dance Quarterly_ was his train of thought effectively derailed by his coworker’s loud, overly-optimistic singing as Spongebob went about that day’s 101 other perfectly menial tasks which, as always, were expected to be completed before they clocked out.

As always, Sponge was tackling these tasks with a sickeningly sentimental song to motivate himself. Squidward scowled angrily as he hid his face behind his magazine, wishing he could physically disappear into the pages. He had expected to go home a little over an hour ago, but Krabs had  insisted that he stay behind to “keep an eye on the lad.” Apparently, Krabs had finally learned that to leave SpongeBob unattended in the Krusty Krab was just asking for trouble.

And well, technically, Krabs was still here, but he was a bit indisposed at the moment. Squid glanced up briefly from his magazine to his boss’s office door. Perhaps if he cared, or did not already know the reason for his boss’s strange behavior lately, he would have asked Eugene what was wrong.

Neither was the case. As quickly as it happened, Squidward returned his eyes to his magazine, once again retreating behind his façade of indifference just in time for another burst of SpongeBob’s raucous singing to once again burst from the order window behind his boat. Defeated, Squidward sighed as he shut his magazine and returned it to its proper place in his pile.

There was no point in combating SpongeBob when it came to the volume of his singing. To say something about it would only draw SpongeBob’s attention to him instead of his work, and _by Neptune_ that was the last thing Squidward wanted.

But anyway, enough thinking about SpongeBob. If he couldn’t enjoy his evening where he liked, Squidward figured he might as well make the most of it here. And with that thought, he reclined back in his rowboat, positioned his imported goose down pillow beneath his head and relaxed, allowing himself to go limp as he put forth his best attempt at drowning out SpongeBob’s singing. And hey, it actually seemed to be working this time! No sooner did he recline back in his boat did it seem as though the restaurant had gone mercifully silent. It was almost as though—

“Squidward?” came that grating voice from beside his boat, and the cephalopod flinched in dismay.

“What is it _now_ , SpongeBob? Can’t you see I’m trying to tune you out?” Squidward answered without looking up, his eyes fixed to the ceiling.

“Well, Squid, I was just gonna say I’m done with those tasks Mr. Krabs said I had to do, so you can go home now if you want…” here SpongeBob paused as though to add something else, but Squidward interjected before he could continue, putting a tentacle roughly over his coworker’s mouth.

“We-hell then, why didn’t you just say so, SpongeBob?” Squidward leapt up from his boat with a flourish, his tentacles squelching wetly on the floor as he landed. “So long, sucker!” He shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted from the restaurant with all of his usual drama, leaving Sponge alone with his unfinished trail of thought.

SpongeBob sighed wistfully as he wrung his hat in his hands, his cheerful façade crumbling to nothingness as he watched Squidward bolt from the restaurant. When he could no longer see him, he glanced to Krabs’s office door and once again wished he could do something to help. He just hated to see anybody so sad, especially when he knew he couldn’t offer sympathy or advice. He stepped towards the door and raised his hand to knock, perhaps to offer words of encouragement or a cursory “goodbye Mr. K, see you tomorrow!”, but then thought better of it just before he brought his fist down. Much as he hated to leave him in his present state, Sponge had a feeling he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He hung his hat on the coatrack by the door and stepped out into the bracing night air. He didn’t bother to lock the door behind him as he set off for his pineapple, because he figured Krabs would do it when he left. He breathed the water in deeply and sighed, willing thoughts of Mr. Krabs’s situation out of his mind. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on it overnight.

~

Krabs sat at his desk, supporting his chin in one claw as he stared at his office door—not really paying attention to the lights going out in the dining area, or the restaurant doors shutting behind his employees. Right now, the door to his office was locked and he would be sitting in darkness, if not for the ancient desk lamp that was bathing his desk in an intense yellow light.

He sighed deeply as he looked again at the necklace he held dangling in his claw. He frowned as the heart-shaped locket caught the light in a frustratingly-optimistic sort of glint, and put the unkind thing in one of his desk drawers if only so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

Since his marriage to Cashina—er, _Plankton_ rather— Krabs hadn’t been feeling quite himself.

For one thing, he’d been sleeping too much. Every morning that week he had arrived no less than one hour late to work, despite the fact that he’d been sleeping an hour or three earlier than necessary at night. But despite this extra sleep, he still awoke feeling drained and miserable. It was all he could do most days to drag himself out of bed, let alone be an active member of his workforce.

In addition to his excessive sleep, he had a number of other troubling symptoms. He hadn’t been eating much lately. Nor had he been very talkative... or energetic… or optimistic…

Come to think of it, all of this felt _dreadfully_ familiar. It all hearkened back to the old days when he’d returned from the Navy, married his first wife, and subsequently lost her all in the span of a few short years. But surely this wouldn’t be like _then_ . Surely this time it wouldn’t debilitate him the way it had before. Or so he _hoped_ …

Needless to say, this week he had made every effort to stay hidden away in his office. Not only would this give him the alone time he needed to come to terms with his grief, but it would also help him avoid Plankton—who had been making regular attempts at speaking with him, in addition to his usual attempts at stealing the Formula.

Luckily, though, it seemed like the new security system SpongeBob got for him was working like a charm. The C.P.U., or _Copepod Prevention Unit_ , was one of Sandy’s newest inventions. She had been looking for a likely place to test it, when SpongeBob had mentioned the problem with Plankton—and one way or another, Krabs had wound up with a free security system that really seemed to take its job seriously. It resembled a snail in more than just its appearance. Its ferocious dislike for Plankton was rivaled only by Spongebob’s sneagle, Jerry.. er.. Terry? … **_Gary_ **. That’s it.

Krabs sighed. His thoughts had a habit of getting off topic lately, too.

The worst part about this mess was the fact that Plankton didn’t _know_ , couldn’t possibly have known, what this had meant to him. Sure, he had loved Cashina practically from the start; she had been everything he wanted and then some in more than one respect. Beautiful, affluent, and kind… But, _Plankton?_ Krabs covered his face with his claws for a moment, as the terrible truth came crashing down on him for what had to be the tenth time that week, and that awful aching feeling of loss and longing spread through his chest.

He had always had feelings for him. Ever since they were kids.

Even worse, the feeling had persisted even after the argument that had ended their friendship those many years ago; if anything, it had only seemed to grow stronger with the distance between them. Just like that old saying. This incident with Cashina had only served to reawaken those old feelings he had hidden away so long ago, and to remind him that he couldn’t always have the one he wanted. Maybe that’s part of the reason it hurt so badly. Reopening an old wound, as they say.

But there was nothing to be done for it now. It was obvious to him; after he’d had some time to think about the situation and look at things from the outside; that Plankton had only been in this for one reason and one reason only—and that was the Secret Formula. No matter how much he wished it had been the other way—that Plankton had somehow always harbored feelings for him too, and this  sweet agony hadn’t been so very one-sided; it simply wasn’t so, and he knew it.

The fact of the matter was this: it was _always_ about the Formula and _never_ had it been about him.

Didn’t Plankton know by now that he would be more than happy to accept him with open arms if only he would apologize sincerely? He thought he had made himself clear all those many times that he had accepted Plankton at his word that he was coming around, even those times that it had been obvious that Plankton had been _lying_.  Krabs had wanted more than anything to believe he meant it.

He sighed again, and the claw which had previously supported his chin came to a gentle rest on the table. Krabs was through with this petty feud. He knew that now. All he wanted was for things to be as good as they once were. Before the issue of _money_ , before the issue of _fame_ ; it had been _them_ , through thick and thin. Rain or shine. What he wouldn’t give for things to be ok again. What he wouldn’t give for his old friend back at his side-- even if they could never be together ‘that way’. All this fighting and cat and mouse and petty games of the heart—it was _killing_ him.

As this thought concluded, he looked at the clock which hung on the opposite wall and frowned. How could it be so late already? _9:46 PM._ Perhaps he had gotten lost in thought… again.

He rose and made as if to leave the office, but hesitated with his keys poised in midair just above the lock. _I_ _might as well count the money in the register before I go_ , he reasoned with mild reluctance. It’s not like he really wanted to go home to an empty house, and _besides_ he’d been putting off counting it all week.

Besides, Pearl was a big girl, nearly grown. She could take care of herself for a few hours...

~

Plankton glanced warily behind himself as he crept towards the laboratory doors which separated the kitchen from the main dining area of his restaurant, hoping to all the Gods of the sea and stars that Karen’s theft prevention arsenal wouldn’t be triggered by his comings and goings at such a late hour of the evening.

Once again, he glanced at Karen’s darkened monitor for a moment with apprehension, expecting her to awaken from sleep mode and start in on him anew for sneaking around, but her screen remained dim and mercifully silent even after Plankton crested the threshold of the doorway and pushed the door open on its rusted hinges. He winced as the rusted metal screamed in protest, yet when he glanced over his shoulder Karen remained quiet and complacent even as he successfully made his leave of the restaurant—creeping through the lobby on tiptoe and finally pushing open the Chum Bucket doors to a rush of fresh, _crisp_ nighttime ocean.

 _Do I_ really _want to crack open this particular can of worms?_ he wondered to himself, thinking not of the misfortune he’d completely bypassed with Karen, but thinking instead of the trouble to come with Eugene. Even as he was thinking this, his feet mechanically began to carry him towards the silent lobster trap which brooded across the street—squatting in the dark like some slumbering, wooden monster. Even without the aid of his telescope, Plankton could not mistake the glow of light coming from deep within the restaurant. Through the porthole on his office door, Krabs’s desk lamp cast an unearthly halo of golden light onto the wooden floor of the dining area.

Plankton crossed the street, stopped before the glass double doors of the Krusty Krab, and peered inside. As he was watching, the door to Krabs’s office suddenly opened, bathing the empty restaurant in a wedge of honey-colored light as Krabs himself stepped outside. He walked to the cash register and opened it with none of his former enthusiasm, and Plankton frowned somewhat to himself with confusion as he pressed his face against the glass to see into the restaurant better. His antenna twitched thoughtfully atop his head with distress.

There was something _very_ wrong with Eugene. If he knew _anything_ about Krabs— _anything at all_ —Plankton knew he loved money more than life. So _why_ was he so slow and deliberate withdrawing the cash? Plankton wondered, struggling against his caffeine high and lack of sleep to comprehend what would have been obvious to him had he had a full night’s rest. Why did he give the stack such a sad and meaningful look as he slowly closed his office door behind him? Why did he handle the money as if it was dirty and he wanted nothing to do with it? Just... _What??_

 _I mean sheesh._ _Pull yourself together, Krabs,_ he thought with a mild sense of impatient disgust as he casually pushed open the doors to walk inside. Somehow, he wasn’t at all surprised to find that they’d been left open. In many ways, this whole evening seemed staged. Everything had a dreamlike, unbelievable quality to it-- like nothing was of real consequence. Again, Plankton would be more concerned if he had had a proper night’s rest.

He strolled deliberately right up to his rival’s office door and stood outside it for a moment, listening hard to whatever was going on inside.

After a moment, when he was satisfied that the coast was clear, Plankton swallowed hard and pushed open the door.

Krabs was sitting at his desk, his head down, his shoulders shaking. The stack of cash and coins that he’d taken from the cash register lay beside him in a pile, completely forgotten. He lurched his head up off his claws and gave Plankton a look that was singularly vulnerable and yet somehow unsurprised before he found it in himself to look away.

He was crying.

“What are you doing here, Plankton?” he asked quietly, obviously fighting to keep his voice steady in his moment of weakness, and Plankton took a step deeper into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving them alone together for the first night since their marriage some weeks ago.

He glanced to the corner, where the C.P.U. sat dark and still, before he took a tentative step deeper into the room. When the robotic snail didn’t seem to register him, Plankton sighed in blessed relief and jumped up on the desktop so they could look at one another eye to eye.

“I think you and I both know why I’m here, Eugene... We… we need to talk about… what happened…” Plankton began awkwardly and at length, walking up beside him and resting his hand on Eugene’s claw in a clumsy attempt at being supportive, and he wasn’t surprised at all when Krabs responded by jerking out of reach.

Krabs remained looking away, though Plankton’s brief touch registered on his face as a grimace of displeasure and pain. “What about it, Plankton? There’s nothing to talk about. Ye played with me feelings and acted like it was all just a joke t’you. For that matter, what’re you doin’ here talkin’ about it as if you really care?” He laid his head down on the desk again, hiding Plankton from his view. “I bet you’re just here to gloat over your victory _as always._ ”

He sniffed and hunched his shoulders in a defensive gesture, clearly fighting against the impulse to get up and leave the room. “Well, take one good look at me! I hope this is what you _wanted_.”

Plankton drew away from him after his outburst, looking both momentarily bewildered and completely stunned at his honesty. After a moment’s pause, he tried his voice.

“…Er… _actually_ , I didn’t think it would end up like **this** ,” he began, looking away despite the fact Krabs couldn’t possibly see him.

“For once, I uh… I kind of feel like I might have gone too far this time, and…  well… for what it’s worth, I’m just here to say… I’m sorry about what I did…” He huffed a rueful laugh at this sorry state of affairs and rubbed the back of his head. “I never thought I’d actually say that to you and mean it… Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that I haven’t slept in a little over four days now, but… I’ve been too busy _thinking about it_ to sleep. You know? Thinkin’ about what I did and… _why_ I did it…”

“You don’t haveta explain yerself t’me. I get it.” Krabs interrupted suddenly. “You just wanted the Formuler, as always, and if I happened t’be hurt in the crossfire then that was _even better_ , right?”

Krabs shrugged in a forced gesture of dismissiveness and then reached for the pile of money he’d left discarded on his desk. He scraped it together in a big, untidy-looking wad so he could grab it up in one hand, then stood from his desk and walked to his safe. He placed the money inside, obviously not caring one way or the other  if Plankton should see the combination _or_ the Secret Formula, and then shut it again.

He then sat back down at his desk as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and not for the first time did Plankton begin to wonder if this was all just a bad dream. There was no way Eugene could be so lazy with his defenses! No way Eugene could be saying all these things.

“--And fer the record I _don’t_ accept your apolergy,” Krabs interjected into his thoughts, and Plankton visibly winced at the hatred in his voice.

Krabs crossed his arms. “You’d do it all over again if ya had the slightest chance of it maybe workin’ next time. _I know y’would._ So how ‘bout you do me a favor an’ let’s stop dancin’ ‘round the issue. Is there something else ya gotta say, Plankton, that I ain’t already heard from ye? Some other clever lie that y’wanna see if I’ll believe?”

Plankton blinked and stared up at Eugene in abject disbelief. “You’ve got it all wrong, Eugene! I’m being _serious_ this time! I **mean** it!” he attempted to reason even as Krabs apparently lost his patience and in one swift motion snatched him up by the antenna and shoved himself to stand from his desk. He switched off the light and grabbed his keys in his free hand while Plankton writhed miserably in midair, trying to free himself from his grip.

“Yeah. That’s what’cha said last time, and the time b’fore that, and the time b’fore **_that_ ** ,” said Eugene as he exited his office, locked the door behind him, and pushed open the doors of his restaurant. He released his grip on Plankton’s antenna and allowed him to fall to the pavement, then stepped past him as though he weren’t there.

“ _Hang on a second_ , if you won’t accept my apology, then will you at least tell me one thing!?” Plankton leapt up and yelled after him. “Please, Krabs, just tell me this: **_why_ ** _haven’t you served me annulment papers_?”

Krabs stopped in his tracks, just as Plankton feared he would, and suddenly his posture was tense. _Rigid_.

“Y’wanna know why?” he echoed disbelievingly still with his back to Plankton, and his voice was dripping with _venom_ and _condescension_ and _hurt_. “That’s a good one, Plankton. If yer so smart, I bet you’ll figure it out eventually.”

And with that, he resumed walking away, in the direction of his house which was a black fleck on the nighttime horizon, and Plankton watched him go with mingled dismay and disbelief, knowing now more than ever that his troubles with Eugene had only just begun.

~

A few moments later found Plankton back inside the Chum Bucket. He stood before Karen’s darkened monitor for a moment, staring up at her, wishing she were awake if only so he could ask for her advice on the situation. Despite the harshness of her words lately, Plankton knew that she only wanted the best for him.

Karen had all the answers. It was one of the many reasons he had married her, those many years ago. She always knew what to do. What to say. In many ways, she’d been his most loyal companion all his life.

He brought a hand to her cold steel with all the tenderness his heavy heart could muster. He was lucky to still have her, and right now he needed her advice. Plankton nudged her mouse, hoping that that would be enough to wake her up.

In response, a very loud whirring noise emitted from within her monitor, and Plankton tilted his head in confusion. She’d never made a sound like _that_ before.

“What the--?”

In his confusion, he pushed her power button and immediately her screen flared with--

 

blue

 

\--and Plankton stared, hoping against hope that what he was seeing was just a trick. _That this wasn’t really happening._ That he was so sleep deprived that this whole thing was some kind of demented fever dream.

Karen couldn’t possibly have **bluescreened** since the last time they’d spoken to one another earlier that evening, he thought disbelievingly as he took a step back and nearly stumbled on Spot-- who had been behind him this entire time. Plankton hardly registered his little amoeba’s startled yelp as he stepped on one of his paws and hastily corrected his bearings before he fell over.

There was just _no way_ she could leave him like that… Thought Plankton, his eye wide in mounting horror as he stared up at her vacant monitor. _No way_ that the last words they’d spoken to one another had been so callous with bitterness and resentment. _Uh uh._ Things just couldn’t be left like that.

 _Why don’t you crawl back to your_ **_HUSBAND_ ** _, Plankton?_ Echoed Karen’s voice unhelpfully in his mind.

 _Obviously you don’t need me, anymore!_ Ghost-Karen cried, _You think I don’t notice the way you chase him, and vice versa? You think I don’t notice the way he looks at you? Go on! Maybe I’ll follow your example and pretend the last few decades between us never happened! You make it look so_ **_EASY!!_ **

Feeling like a man in a dream, with her voice echoing like a scream, his heart in his throat, his mind blank of reason- Plankton took a staggering step closer and tentatively clicked her mouse. In response, the whirring noise of her emptied processor increased obligingly in volume, and from somewhere behind him Plankton dimly registered Spot's frightened whimper.

 **Parting Words (06/18/18):** Don’t worry, I promise Plankton will redeem himself later on in the story. ;)

Hope you guys liked this! Thanks so much for reading! <3

Reviews, both for the positive and for the negative, are welcomed!

 **EDIT 04/01/2019:** I hope this chapter reads better, you guys! Please keep the faith. I promise I’ll have new chapters up eventually!


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